Major League Baseball Player to Mafioso
by Paper Flight
Summary: TYL Yamamoto has transitioned happily from a Vongola Guardian to a major league baseball player. One day, he receives a chilling call from Tsuna regarding his father's death at the hands of the Millefiore, and he decides to return to the Family.


**Major League Baseball Player to Mafioso**

**A/N: **Basically, this sheds a bit of light on TYL Yamamoto's background. Squalo mentioned in the Future Arc that TYL Yamamoto found it hard to switch from the major leagues back to the Vongola – I hope this explains a little as to why he ended up coming back. For the sake of the story, Tsuna's Inheritance Ceremony takes place when he's 24 (he's 25 now), and Yamamoto leaves Vongola sometime around then. **This fic will have no pairings – **it's completely Yamamoto-centered.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy it! Please review – critique is appreciated, as always.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

* * *

He got the call after practice that day. Yamamoto was always the last one to leave the lockers, because he liked to clean up the mess left by the other players. He didn't mind – it made the work easier for the janitors and gave him time to think by himself. While he was picking up the towels left on the floor, he heard his cell phone buzz in his bat bag. He glanced at the caller ID and did a double take. Tsuna. The last time he'd made contact with Tsuna was over a year ago, and that had been a Christmas card. He began to feel uneasy. When he first left, he'd stayed in contact with Tsuna and the other guardians (with the exceptions of Hibari and Mukuro), but as time went on, they'd drifted apart. On the rare occasions that they did converse, Yamamoto could tell that Tsuna was stressed – he was more abrupt than usual, seeming frustrated and on edge. He could only imagine what Tsuna was going through after being made boss. Yamamoto had tried not to bother him too much, and the result was almost complete detachment from the Vongola. At this point, Tsuna wouldn't have called him if it weren't for something serious. Warily, he picked up the phone.

"Tsuna! What's up?" he said cheerily. There was a pause on the other end.

"Yamamoto. I – " More hesitation.

"What's the matter?" The feeling of unease grew.

"It's your father…he's dead."

He felt as though he'd just been drenched in ice water. He stared at the small screen of the phone, hearing Tsuna's voice, blunt and tinny through the speaker, over and over in his head. _Dead…dead…dead…dead…_This was some kind of sick joke.

_But Tsuna's not the type to make jokes about this kind of stuff._

"I'm sorry? I think I misheard you," he answered, keeping up his cheery façade. His natural optimism was struggling to take over. He heard Tsuna exhale slowly.

"Look, Yamamoto….I don't know what to say….I'm so sorry. I think we need to talk, face to face. There's a lot that's been going on lately. When are you free?"

"I'll be right over," and he hung up the phone. There seemed to be some sort of fog in his brain, a buzzing in his ears. He was completely numb. Like a robot, he finished picking up the towels, then slung his bag over his shoulders and walked slowly out the door. On his way, he almost crashed four times because he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings. He looked, but didn't see. A small part of him remembered the location of the base, and he parked his car in the deserted lot before walking into the woods. A storm was raging, and by the time he'd stopped in front of the tree that marked the location, he was completely soaked.

Now came the hard part. Yamamoto slipped his hand inside his pocket and felt the cold metal ring that he always kept with him. Originally, he'd planned on returning the ring to Tsuna when he left, but Tsuna had shrugged it off. "You're still one of my Guardians," he'd insisted. "Keep it." Yamamoto kept it around with him as a keepsake, but it had been several years since it had been used. He wasn't sure if he could still do it.

_He was standing in the training room. Gokudera was next time him, boasting, "See, Tenth? I knew I could do it!" proudly showing off the faint red flame flickering on the ring. He looked over at Gokudera. "Oh! My turn!" Gokudera sneered at him and said snidely, "There's no way a baseball brain like _you _could do this. What you need is great motivation and strength, like me, right, Tenth?" Yamamoto laughed, then concentrated on his ring. Motivation. _

He closed his eyes. What he'd once been able to do effortlessly and in the space of a millisecond now took conscious effort and concentration.

_Motivation._

_Dad…_

The blue Rain flame flickered feebly, but it was enough. The air seemed to shimmer, and then a door appeared. He placed his hand on the identification pad, wondering if it would still recognize his fingerprint. It did. As he walked down the hall, the door slid shut behind him with a hiss. When he reached the end of the hallway, he hesitated. Which way was it? The base had expanded since he'd last been here. Suddenly, he heard footsteps coming from his right. A tall man with silver hair that resembled octopus tentacles approached. On his face was a mixture of pity and apprehensiveness. Yamamoto ignored it.

"It's been a while, hasn't it, Gokudera? How are you?" he asked in a deceptively happy voice.

"Yamamoto," said the other. They shook hands firmly and he said, "Come this way." He turned, without saying anything else, and led him down numerous amounts of halls and doors. Eventually they reached a large door with the Vongola crest on it.  
"He's inside." He opened the door, and Yamamoto walked in.

"Aren't you coming too?" he asked.

Gokudera turned back. "No, I don't think so. This is between you and the Tenth," he said seriously.

_Gokudera_, he thought, _you've really grown up._

Yamamoto walked into the room, and the door closed behind him. He took in his surroundings. It was sparsely furnished – typical Tsuna. A large, red rug on the floor lay on the floor, two long black couches sat on top of the rug with a table between them, and a random assortment of paintings were hung on the walls. At the back of the room was a large desk with a swivel chair. A young man was standing next to it.

Yamamoto looked at his old friend closely - his first time seeing him in years.

The position of Mafia boss did not suit Tsuna. He looked tired, and dark shadows lurked under his eyes. His brown hair looked tousled, and the black suit he was wearing had creases and wrinkles. Yamamoto suspected that Tsuna fell asleep at his desk more often than he slept in a bed. Nevertheless, Tsuna's brown eyes lit up when he saw Yamamoto, and he walked over to embrace Yamamoto.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" Tsuna's voice sounded as if it hadn't been used in a while.

"Yeah," agreed Yamamoto, attempting a smile, but only managing a sort of pained grimace.

Tsuna sighed, and ran a hand through his unkempt hair.

"Why don't you have a seat," he said, gesturing at the couch. "We have a lot to discuss." Yamamoto noticed the Sky ring on his hand. He took a seat, feeling number by the second. Tsuna sat on the couch opposite him, and closed his eyes.

"Where do I begin?" he murmured to himself, massaging his temples.

"How about at the beginning, from after I left the Family?" suggested Yamamoto. He wanted to avoid the inescapable topic at hand for as long as possible.

Tsuna opened his eyes. "Good idea. You were always the practical one." He smiled thinly. "Are you comfortable? We're going to be here for a while. Should I get something for you to eat?"

"No, that's okay," Yamamoto answered.

"Okay then." Tsuna settled back onto the couch. "Here I go."

"Nothing happened much after you left the Vongola. Most of my Guardians are scattered around the world at the moment. Mukuro is still in Vendicare, but Chrome stops by from time to time. Luckily, they're all okay. You just saw Gokudera, and he's doing fine as well. I haven't heard from Ryohei in a while, but Kyoko keeps me up to date about his comings. Apparently he's as extreme as ever. Lambo is fine; he's as childish as always. We keep him out of the fighting as much as possible. You remember what 15-years-old Lambo was like, from the Ten Year Bazooka, don't you?" Yamamoto gave a small smile – teenage Lambo was just as spoiled and as much of a crybaby as 5-years-old Lambo.

"Then there's Hibari. He's now the head of a different organization, known as the Foundation. He's made it clear that he is in no way affiliated with the Vongola, but he still fights along the Family in his own discreet way. You know what he's like.

"After the Inheritance Ceremony, mafia families from all over the world stopped by and we had to meet with them. Mostly, it was really boring and I forgot everything that was said. Luckily, Gokudera's memory is as good as ever. Eventually, after about half a year or so, things settled down. Then one day, we got a letter from someone named Byakuran, the head of the Millefiore family."

Tsuna leaned forward, placing his elbows in his knees, and stared at the table. His voice took on a brooding turn.

"Basically, the letter told us that the Millefiore would be taking over as the leading Mafia family in the world, and demanded that we hand over the Vongola rings in order to complete the Tri-Ni-Sette. All resistance would be instantly crushed.

"I wasn't against the idea, since it would avoid pointless conflict, and I didn't see the point of the Vongola being the leading family anyways. But then Reborn explained the Tri-Ni-Sette to me." At the mention of Reborn's name, Tsuna's eyes saddened.

"The Tri-Ni-Sette is a combination of the three most powerful groups of artifacts. They are the Vongola Rings, the Arcobaleno Pacifiers, and the Mare Rings. In short, if one were to possess the Tri-Ni-Sette, that person would have unlimited power. And in the hands of a man like Byakuran…anything would be possible…even the power to crush universes. Currently, Byakuran holds the Mare Rings and at least more than half of the Arcobaleno pacifiers. The Vongola Family is still in possession of the Vongola Rings, however."

Yamamoto cut in, thoroughly confused.

"But how can this man Byakuran have the Pacifiers? Doesn't that kid have one too?" Tsuna looked up.

"He's dead. All of the Arcobaleno have been killed," said Tsuna in a flat voice. Yamamoto stared at him. He knew how close Tsuna had been to the kid, the infant hitman who had trained him since middle school, and had continued to act as his advisor even through his adult years. Tsuna plowed relentlessly on through his story.

"As of now, the Vongola Family is the only obstacle in Byakuran's path, and we're weakening. The Millefiore outnumbers us completely. We have to be cautious when attacking, because for some reason, Byakuran has been able to predict all of our movements. We don't know why. No matter which surprise attack we take, he's always prepared for us. Many of our members have been killed."

Tsuna paused, then continued. His voice was much softer.

"Also, he's been targeting those close to members of the Vongola…that's why we're here now."

Yamamoto sat still, slowly absorbing all of this information. A terrible wave of self-directed guilt and anger was washing over him. While he was away playing baseball games and having fun, his friends were fighting a war for their lives, and as a result, his father had been killed.

_It's your fault…_

He shut his eyes tightly.

"If I hadn't been so selfish, this wouldn't have happened. I should have listened to Squalo!"

"No, Yamamoto, this wasn't your fault. It would have happened anyways, there's nothing you would have been able to do," Tsuna said gently.

Yamamoto exhaled slowly. So many people had died in the past years, and he hadn't known anything. He had been playing baseball, and hanging out with his friends – relaxing and taking it easy. But he'd forgotten his duty. No matter what, he was still Vongola Decimo's Guardian of the Rain. He'd tried to ignore his role by running away, playing baseball and trying to forget his swordsmanship. What would his father had said? Shame coursed through him. He'd been selfish, and as a result, his close friends and relatives had died. His hands clenched, and the ring on his hand pressed into his palm, a reminder.

"Look, Yamamoto," Tsuna looked weary. "I didn't call you just to whine about my problems to you. You made a choice, and I respect that. I'm not trying to recruit you back to the Family or anything; I just thought you should know what happened to your father."

"Don't mock me." Yamamoto stood up. He looked at Tsuna, who stood up as well. He held his tightly clenched fist up– the ring on his finger ignited a brilliant blue flame this time, nothing like the weak one before. "I'm coming back. I am a Guardian after all. We're going to work to bring down this Byakuran."

Tsuna smiled, a real one this time. He put his hand on Yamamoto's shoulder.

"It's good to have you back."

* * *

Yamamoto walked back to his old room in the base. He slid open the door and flipped the switch. Surprised, he noticed that the sheets were fresh and there was no dust anywhere. _Tsuna_, he thought to himself, _you knew I was going to come back all along._

Something caught his eye on the bed. It was a bamboo sheath, with a handle sticking out of it. With a feeling of apprehensiveness, he walked forward and picked it up – it was the Shigure Kintoki. He drew the katana from the sheath, testing the weight. After learning the Shigure Souen Ryu and training so hard with this katana, no bat he'd used in baseball had felt right. They were either too heavy, too light, the length wasn't right, or the grip didn't feel good. But holding the Shigure Kintoki in his hand, he knew that the balance was perfect. Stepping back, he concentrated hard. The Shigure Kintoki only transformed into a katana if you were worthy of inheriting the Shigure Souen Ryu style. He closed his eyes, stepping back. The muscle memory of intense training came back, and his eyes flew open as he went into the 8th stance – Pouring Rain. Immediately, the bamboo stick transformed into a gleaming silver katana. He practiced all eight forms, then the one he'd made up during his fight with Squalo. After he was done, he looked down at the sword. He closed his eyes and pictured his father standing next to him.

_Old man….I'm sorry._

But then he saw his father giving him a thumbs up.

_Way to go, Takeshi. I knew you could do it._

He smiled.

_~end~_

**A/N: **Hope you liked it! That was my first KHR fic ever. Tell me what you thought :)

~P a p e r


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